


In The Bleak Midwinter

by vainlaine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Clint is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-25 06:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14372667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vainlaine/pseuds/vainlaine
Summary: Bucky remembers all the worst things in the morning





	In The Bleak Midwinter

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky doesn't like to wake up, Clint doesn't like it when his boyfriend is suffering.

Waking up wasn’t ever really a fun part of his morning. He liked the part that came after, spending time with friends and eating breakfast, all that, but the process of waking up wasn’t his favorite.

It always started one of two ways. Today was the worse of the two.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do much, really, except feel.

His thoughts flowed a mile a minute, none making much sense.

He didn’t realize he was crying. He didn’t realize he was bleeding. He didn’t realize he was screaming.

His bedroom door flies opens and a fresh wave of panic washes over him. Closing his eyes tightly and gripping his hair with his hand (oh god where’s my other hand), his crying turns to sobbing, his screams going from word-like to simple shrieking.

He waits for the hands, there’s always hands, grabbing and hitting and hurting, but they don’t come. He waits for the shocks or the ice or some sort of pain, but it doesn’t come.  
Instead he feels something warm and heavy being put in his lap. He feels a dip in the ground- no, bed. It’s a bed. He hears talking, but his brain is going too fast to understand the words.

Time passes. He opens his eyes. He tries to figure out when the room turned back into a bedroom, when it stopped being a cell. He’s too tired, though, and simply accepts that maybe it doesn’t have to make sense. The talking slowly turn back into words.

“Tonight, I was thinking I could try making mac n cheese, not the boxed kind, yknow, actually cook. Not sure how well it’ll go, but if it’s nasty, I’m sure the squirrels and rats will love it.”

He breathes. He breathes again. He lets go of his hair. He breathes.

“And I was thinking maybe we should go to PetCo, I think you’d think the chinchillas are hilarious”

He looks in his lap. He remembers. A weighted lap pad. He bought it on Amazon a few months ago. His brain provides “free two day shipping” and not much else.

“This one guy I knew carried his rat around in his pocket every day. It was so cute, his name was Cookie. The rat, I mean, not the guy”

He finally looks to the source of the voice. That’s the last bit he needs.

“Though I did know a guy named Cookie, he was just a male escort, so I dunno if nicknames count”

His boyfriend was smiling a little. He didn’t have a shirt on but he had purple boxes he made on some website that Bucky knows say “HAWKASS” on the back. His hair was messy and as happy and calm as he looked, Bucky didn’t need much to know how worried he had been.

“I was thinking maybe I’d take a burlesque class”

Bucky reaches out, his hand trembling slightly, the post-panic attack exhaustion that threatens to swallow him up.

“Hey beautiful, you feeling okay now?”

Clint holds Bucky’s hand and allows himself be pulled close. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend, pressing the softest kiss to the top of his head.

The now calm former soldier relaxes in his love’s arms, listening to Clint’s heart beat, letting it settle him, allowing his eyes to close, surrounded by soothing words about dinner dates and recipes and things that mean nothing and everything all at once.


End file.
